


making friends and influencing people

by Walutahanga



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Jessica Jones (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: Angst, Crossover, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Rejection, Survivor Guilt, Swearing, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-28 03:11:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16715500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Walutahanga/pseuds/Walutahanga
Summary: Jessica recognises a billionaire gate-crasher at a friend's memorial service.It doesn't go well.





	making friends and influencing people

**Author's Note:**

> Set after just after the Defenders miniseries, so contains huge spoilers for the MCU up until this point. 
> 
> Apologies if Jessica's harsh, but there's no way I can see her responding any other way to Tony, particularly at this point in her life.

There’s no grave for Matt. No grave for a man that’s officially missing.

That bothers Luke and Danny; the Buddhist and the preacher’s son. Jessica could care less. Dead is dead, and Matt’s beyond caring if he’s buried under a fancy tombstone or a thousand tonnes of collapsed building.

Come to think of it, being buried inside a dragon skeleton is pretty kickass. In a thousand years, he and his girlfriend are going to be giving some archaeologist fits. That’s how Jessica would like to go, causing maximum inconvenience for some future asshole, maybe with a note saying _‘fuck you, just try and explain this’_.

She still doesn’t want to go to the memorial, because she has enough of her own problems without people getting their emotions all over her. But she’s trying to be less of a disaster and part of that is owning her shit. It wasn’t just her decisions that put Matt down that hole – that was on all of them, including Matt – but she’d made her share.  

The memorial turns out to be a weird mix in a local church, filled people from all across the social stratosphere; floor-scrubbing immigrants rubbing shoulders with the ultra-professional suits. Gangbangers and cops, nuns and junkies. It’s with some relief that Jessica spots Luke and Claire. She goes to join them, ditching Trish and Malcolm to talk with that one-armed cop who looks like she should be in a hospital bed.

“Hey,” Claire says as Jessica slides into the pew beside them. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m not dead. More than I can say for the guest of honour.”

“Jess,” Luke says quietly.

“What? He wouldn’t care.”

“It’s not really about him.” Which is true. It’s about all these people, who hadn’t known the real Matt under the suits and straight-laced manners. Probably no one had, apart from his two best friends and three assholes he’d met just a few days ago. Which is just fucking depressing. 

Danny slides into pew in front of Jessica, asking: “Is this the normal thing for a funeral? I’ve never seen a Catholic funeral before.”

“It’s not a funeral, dumbass. It’s a memorial.”

“What’s the difference?”

“One of them you pretend the guest of honour might still be alive.”

Danny does that thing where he’s trying really hard to figure out if she’s being serious or not.

“The Church can’t officially hold a funeral without a body,” Luke explains more kindly. “Or at least death certificate. This is mostly for the families.”

“Oh. I see.” Danny glances across the church, to where Matt’s lawyer buddy and the skinny blonde reporter are talking to a priest. He says with one of his rare moments of insight: “I hope it helps them find peace.”

Colleen joins Danny, remarking: “There’s a lot of cops here. Did he have a lot of friends on the force? Oh hey, Jess.”

“Hey.”

“He had one,” Claire replies. “I don’t know of any others. They’re probably keeping an eye out for the Punisher.”

“The _what_?” Danny says, looking vaguely scandalised.

“Don’t look at me, I didn’t name him. He’s a vigilante. Matt was his lawyer for a while.”

“Wait, someone like us? Where was he at Midland Circle? We could have used the help.”

“Trust me, the Punisher’s not the kind of ‘help’ you want,” Luke says firmly. “He’s nothing like us.”

Jessica thinks of Kilgrave’s skull between her fingers and the crunchy squish as she squeezed. Maybe the Punisher’s nothing like Luke or Danny, but she and him would probably find a few things to talk about. For once she decides to keep that thought to herself.

“Do the cops think he’ll show up _here_?” Colleen is saying, sounding like she was regretting wearing the dress and leaving her katana behind.

“Funerals and weddings have a way of shaking people out of the woodwork,” Jessica says. “They probably hope he’ll be enough of a dumbass to show.”

“Would he?”

“Doubt it. The guy’s a professional, not like the fuckwits I follow.” Jessica sees the amused eyebrow that Luke raises her way and amends: “Present company excluded. Besides, I’m more interested in what Tony Stark is doing here.”

She keeps her voice down, pitched just loud enough for the five of them, also keeping her attention straight ahead, not looking behind her. Danny looks faintly puzzled while Luke blinks. “What?”

“Last pew. Asshole in the glasses and designer suit, with the blonde and the bodyguard.”

It’s actually not a bad disguise. One designer suit is much the same as another, and with some extra beard scruff and a pair of dark sunglasses, Stark could be any successful business man paying his respects. It’s actually the blonde who’d given it away; a rail-thin woman with shoes that Trish would kill for and instantly recognisable to anyone who pays attention to the top ten CEO list.

“What’s he doing here?” Luke asks. “Did Matt do work for him?

Claire shrugs uneasily. “You’d have to ask Foggy.”

None of them do. Foggy looks like he’s got enough to deal with without adding a billionaire gatecrasher to the list. Though if Stark tries to insinuate anything about unregistered Enhanced or red leather fetishes, Jessica will smack him so hard his AI will feel it. However the man seems content to sit at the back with his girlfriend, listening to people give their speeches about how they met Matt, or how Matt affected their lives, how inspirational he was to achieve so much with such a disadvantage, blah blah blah. 

The service takes about an hour and Jessica desperately needs a drink by the end. Too much crying. Too many stories.

“There’s a bar down the road,” she says as they’re walking out of the church. “You in?”

She directs this vaguely between Luke and Claire, who she’s fairly certain are a couple now. They’ve got that vibe. She’s glad. Relieved even, to see she didn’t ruin him after all.

“Sounds good,” Claire says. “I’ll ask Foggy and Karen.”

“Alcohol is a poison of the body,” Danny starts, and Colleen lays a hand on his arm.

“They serve non-alcoholic drinks too.”

“Oh. Okay then.”

Jessica looks around for Trish and Malcolm, and sees Stark watching her. It’s not the casual I’d-tap-that perusal or the don’t-I-know-you look. It’s the opaque gaze of someone planning something.

“Actually, give me a minute,” she says. “I’ll be back.”

“Jess,” Luke calls after her as she walks over to Stark and she makes a vague dismissive gesture over her shoulder.

Stark’s bodyguard gives her a suspicious look, but stands down when Stark shakes his head. The blonde holds out her hand. “You must be Jessica Jones. I’m Pepper Potts.”

It’s neatly done. Trish’s mom couldn’t have done better, shifting control of the encounter. Jessica can’t not shake her hand without looking like an asshole.

Luckily, she’s had practise. “Your boyfriend here for the Punisher?” She says. 

Potts’ smile doesn’t fade, but it does cool a few degrees. “I’m sorry?”

“That’s my first guess. The Daredevil took him down last time. Who better than another idiot in a mask, right?” Jessica bares her teeth in an approximation of a smile at Stark.

He smirks at her, looking like an asshole with those dark glasses. “Miss Jones. Everyone said you would give me a run for my money.”

“Just getting warmed up. How’d you know Matt?”

“I didn’t. Though I knew _of_ him.”

“That’s sweet. Also creepy. Mostly creepy.”

“How did you know him?”

“Just my lawyer.”

“He was more than that.”

She steps right close, getting in his face and ignoring the unhappy sound the bodyguard makes. “Whatever you’re implying, Iron Guy, keep it to yourself unless you’d like a free colonoscopy.”

He grins like she amused him. “Walk with me, Jones.”

Potts and the bodyguard stay behind while they walk out among the gravestones. Jessica tries to figure out how to make this problem go away. She’s used to rich assholes – she used to serve them divorce papers and court notices all the time. They talk a big talk but they fold like wet paper at the first hint they might get hurt. Stark is the first rich asshole where she might actually be outclassed. (Danny doesn’t count. Danny’s more dumbass than asshole.)

“So I know Murdock was Daredevil,” Stark starts.  

“Jesus, will you _shut up_.”  

“If you can’t own the mask, you shouldn’t wear it –”

“What is that, fortune cookie bullshit? Matt has family. People who could targeted. Why don’t you think of them before you open your fat mouth!”

Stark opens his mouth, closes it. “You’re right,” he says. “That was thoughtless.”

“Great. Are you going to go away now?”

“Are you going to hear me out?”

“Depends. Will that make you go away faster?”

Stark huffs, frustrated. “This is karma, isn’t it. I’m dealing with a snarky functional alcoholic with super powers. It’s like looking in a mirror.”

“You wish.”

“Look, believe it or not, I am actually here to help.”

“Then help. _Leave_.”

“I left Murdock alone and now he’s dead.”

Stark removes his sunglasses. Without them, he doesn’t look like the rich douche she’s seen on magazine covers her whole life or the condescending dick on the news recently telling Enhanced how to live their lives. He looks tired and a little frustrated.

Jessica refuses to play his game, folding her arms and looking past him, out over the graves at the cityscape. Waits for him to speak first.

“I figured out who he was,” Stark says. “I figured out who most of you are. It’s a kind of hobby of mine.”

“Keeping track of the threats?”

“The recruitment material.”

For once Jessica finds herself shocked into silence. Only for a second though. “Fuck you.”

“Okay… not the response I was expecting.”

“Don’t expect me to be grateful because you _might_ let us into your super special clubhouse.”

“That’s not – just shut up and let me finish, Jones. I knew what Murdock was doing. I know his blindness was genuine and that he compensated somehow – that part I don’t know how, got a couple of working theories, feel free to enlighten me. I _do_ know he stopped when the Accords started, so I assumed he’d wised up and gotten out.”

“He did.”

“If he had gotten out, he’d be alive right now.”

“What was he supposed to do when some ninja assholes were planning on fucking up New York? Look away? It’s not like any of us had you on speed dial.”

“Actually I’m fairly certain Rand Enterprises –”

Jessica grabs that expensive tie, yanks him in close. “I’m going to say this once more, because apparently you’re hard of hearing. Stay the _fuck_ away from Danny.”

This time her anger is fuelled by fear. Danny is an idiot but he’s got potential, and she knows with unerring instinct that if Stark had any glimmer of what the Iron Fist actually was, he wouldn’t rest until he had him onside. And that would be the end of Danny’s tentative growth away from entitled douchebag.

Stark is looking at her face, reading that fear, but not understanding it. “I’m not going to hurt him.” 

“It’s not always about trying. Sometimes shit happens, and shit happens a lot around you. Where are your friends, huh?”

His expression goes still. “Touché,” he says after a moment.

Jessica releases him, faintly surprised at herself, both for grabbing Iron Man and getting away with it. Apparently she really does care about the dumbass. Who'd've thought. 

“What do you want, Stark? No evasions. No bullshit. Just say it.”

“Believe it or not, to make sure you were okay.” When she gives him a sceptical look, he adds: “There aren’t that many people like us in the world. Gotta watch out for each other, right?” He says it with a little laugh, a self-mocking amusement.

Jessica studies him warily. Stark might tell himself he’s being honest, that he’s only here to anonymously check on people he feels an affiliation for. But his own band of freaks broke apart, his friends scattered to the wind, and now he’s circling potential replacements. The two events aren't coincidence. 

Perhaps it should be flattering. Perhaps she should feel compassion or kindness. But Matt is dead and she just doesn’t have the energy or room in her head to accommodate Stark. He brings too much with him; the attention of various governments, whatever existential threat to humanity is currently trailing on his coattails, Shield and Hydra, and his planet-sized issues that even she can see coming a mile off. His world is too big, and it would be all too easy for her and Luke and Danny to get swallowed up by it.

“We’re fine, Stark,” she says tiredly. “Got enough to deal with. Don’t need the Accords bullshit too.”

It’s cruel, and she regrets it a little to see the flicker of hurt, quickly hidden. Had to be done, though. Danny’s too easily led and Luke too much of a damn hero. Both of them way too easily manipulated. So it’s up to Jessica to bite the bullet on all their behalf.

“Sorry,” she says, offering up one half-hearted piece of kindness. “One functional alcoholic per team, right? Two would be pushing it.”

“You should be so lucky,” he says, and that’s more or less it. He goes back to his car with his blonde and his bodyguard, and Jessica goes back to her friends.

She feels sorry for Stark, a guy fumbling with problems at least partly of his own making. Not that much though. His friends might still come back. Hers is in the ground. 


End file.
